Isaac's Secret
by theleveebroke
Summary: Isaac has something important to tell Scott. But will Scott understand? Mindless Scisaac fluff.


"Uh, Isaac?"

The sound of his name being called snapped the boy back to reality. His eyes, heavy and dark from lack of sleep, drifted up from the wooden porch to find an almost equally tired-looking Scott standing in the doorway, arms folded. He shouldn't have been surprised to see Scott standing there like that-it was _his_ house after all, and he was doubtless wondering why some kid he barely knew was paying him a visit so late at night. "Scott, I-" Isaac started, but the words caught in his throat, and a familiar sense of hesitancy flooded over him. Scott stifled a yawn, eyes half-open, and looked almost ready to say something himself when Isaac blurted out, "There's something I need to tell you."

Scott's arms fell, and his expression followed suit, his eyes growing wider. Any hint of how he'd rather be sleeping was gone. "What's wrong? Is someone hurt?" he asked, his voice almost cracking. "Is it... Is it Allison?"

Isaac swallowed hard at the mention of Scott's ex-girlfriend. "No," he said, "It's not Allison. It's nobody, really. I mean, nobody's in trouble or anything, so don't worry." His hand found its way to the back of his head, and he scratched away at some itch buried in the curls. He was sure he looked just as awkward as he felt. A shy smile played at the corner of his lips, and he considered telling Scott everything right then and there-just to get it all over with-but the notion disappeared almost as quickly as it came. "This was a bad idea," he said, stepping to turn away from the McCall house. Before he could go any further, however, he felt a hand catch his shoulder.

"What's a bad idea?" Scott asked, his voice louder, more confident than before. "You came here to tell me something. What is it?"  
Isaac could feel the tension in Scott's grip, which meant one thing: Scott didn't believe him. Not completely, at least. He couldn't blame him; Scott had to put up with Derek's unwillingness to talk, after all, which was made all the more difficult given that he wasn't a part of the pack. Isaac shrugged the weight off his shoulder and turned to Scott, whose face was only a breath's distance from his own. "Maybe we should talk inside."

"Yeah, alright," Scott nodded, leading the way indoors. Halfway up the stairs, he glanced over his shoulder and whispered behind him, "Must be something important, what with how fast your heart's beating right now." His eyes caught Isaac's as he looked back, but they weren't accusatory. If anything, they were empathetic. It was a look he wasn't used to seeing. "Try and be a little quieter, though, okay?" Scott asked, opening the door to his bedroom. "My mom's trying to sleep."

Isaac gave him a small nod, trying not to step as loudly as he entered his room. Looking around, he allowed himself to take in everything for the first time-he'd seen Scott's room before, sure, but he'd never really _seen_ it. It looked a lot like how he pictured most teenage boys' rooms: it was lined with colorful posters and cluttered up with useless junk, soda cans, and sports equipment (not to mention piles of old laundry), but there were other things, too. Pictures of Scott with his mom, for instance, and pictures with Stiles. There were even small, handwritten notes that reeked of Allison splayed across the nightstand. He couldn't help but think back to his own room, and how devoid of this kind of warmth it was. When it came to friends and family, he really didn't have much of either to put on display. It was a curious thought, but one he couldn't ignore: Scott's room seemed to feel like more of a home than his own.

"You can sit down, y'know," Scott said, waking Isaac from his daydream. "There's room over here." He gestured to the empty spot beside him on the bed, his face a dopey, half-hearted smile. "When you're done looking through my stuff, that is."

He hadn't noticed it, but he'd somehow managed to open one of the books on Scott's desk. An old journal on werewolf lore, if the cover was any giveaway. "Sorry," he said, quickly closing it. He took off his jacket, draping it carefully over the back of the desk chair, and took the seat on the bed next to Scott. His sheets were a twisted-up mess, he noticed, knotted and bunched up and half-kicked off the bed. Scott must not have been getting much sleep, either.  
"So... You gonna tell me now?" Scott asked, toeing off his sneakers and kicking them under the bed. "Not that I'm trying to be pushy or anything."

Isaac forced a nervous laugh and laced his fingers together, twiddling his thumbs and searching his brain for a way to say what he'd came here to say. Confidence was something that should have come easily to him by now, but for some reason he couldn't even manage to say two simple words. His knees were shaking, he noticed, not unlike a child's, and he dropped his eyes to the floor. As if on cue, Scott's hand found his shoulder again. "I... I can't," Isaac finally choked out, surprised by the tears that were starting to form in his eyes. This was _not_ how he wanted this conversation to go-this was _nothing_ like how he'd planned it out in his head.

"Isaac, just tell me," Scott pleaded. "I can't do anything to help if you don't tell me what's wrong." The hand he'd placed on Isaac's shoulder began to slide gently down, fingers grazing the curvature of his arm. Soon enough, his hands were both wrapped firmly around Isaac's, his thumb brushing the top of the other boy's knuckles. It was an odd gesture, but it was one that made Isaac feel warm. "I promise you can trust me."

The word 'trust' hit him hard, and Isaac felt his nerves melt away. Of course he could trust Scott. After all, isn't that what he'd told him in the first place? Isn't that the reason he was there with him right now? Clearing his throat, Isaac managed to gather his confidence. "Scott, what I wanted to tell you is... I'm gay." The words were dry on his breath, and they lingered in the air against the boys' silence. If you could call it silence-Isaac felt the blood race in Scott's palms, and the collective thump of their heartbeats rang in his ears. He could even hear the shallowness of Scott's breath. What if he was wrong? What if he couldn't trust Scott the way he'd hoped? Maybe he should have told him sooner. Surely he wouldn't be sitting beside him, holding his hands and trying to comfort him if he'd told him sooner. But there was something about Scott he needed, something about the simplicity of hand-holding that made him feel whole, made him feel wanted. He winced, expecting Scott to pull away any second.

"Really?" came Scott's voice, not at all harsh like Isaac had expected. "That's all?" He laughed a bit, not unkindly, and gave Isaac's shoulder a playful nudge."I mean, it's not like I haven't noticed how friendly you've been all of a sudden. And don't get me started on all those times I've caught you staring in the locker room. You're no master of subtlety, that's for sure."

"Hey now," Isaac said, a genuine grin starting to appear on his face. "You make it sound like I'm some kind of creep." He felt Scott's hands let go of his own as he turned to face him. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so worked up over telling Scott, of all people. He should've known that he'd play it off cool with a joke or something; he and Stiles had that in common. But there was something else that was bugging him now. "I have to ask, though," he said, "If you knew that I, uh, _liked_ you... Why didn't you just say something? I would have left you alone."

"Well," Scott said, shifting closer to Isaac, "That's the thing. Maybe I didn't want to be left alone." The dim glow of the lamp on Scott's nightstand cast a shadow under his lips that made them look even more prominent than usual.

"If I didn't know any better," Isaac said, blushing, "I'd say you were trying to flirt with me." He regretted saying the words almost as soon as they left his mouth-if things weren't awkward before, they sure would be now. But to his surprise, Scott didn't move away.

"It's a good thing you don't know any better, then," Scott said, seemingly unfazed. He lifted his hand again, but instead of reaching out to Isaac to comfort him like last time, he simply brushed his cheek. "It'd ruin what I plan to do next."

Isaac felt Scott's fingers spread around the base of his cheek, his palm resting comfortably against his chin. As he leaned in, he couldn't help but take one last look before closing his eyes and letting the other boy's face find his. There was a shared sense of hesitation as their lips met, _should-we-or-shouldn't-we_, and they almost drew back at the unspoken question. But sure enough, it was Scott that answered that question for the both of them, with an open mouth and a sensation that Isaac had never experienced before. It wasn't his first kiss, but it sure as hell felt like it.


End file.
